


Anamnesis

by kancerously



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Boys In Love, Canon Compliant, Dave thinks too much, Gen, Humanstuck, Introspection, M/M, Misuse of commas, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Rating May Change, Reincarnation, Slow Build, Slow Burn, a little ooc, okay maybe a lot OOC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-09-13 09:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9116959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kancerously/pseuds/kancerously
Summary: Slowly, slowly, slowly. Dave Strider begins to remember.an·am·ne·sis/ˌanəmˈnēsis/nounrecollection, in particular.





	1. In which Dave Strider remembers.

Slowly, slowly, slowly. Dave Strider begins to remember.

\---

It begins with his mother. He is ten and excited to start fifth grade. She runs a comforting hand along his shoulders as he scarfs down his breakfast. Dave swallows, turns to smile at her, and the food gets stuck in his throat.

For a second—one minuscule moment—he sees her. But she's not the same woman who he's known his whole life. She’s younger, and her pink eyes glint in a way that indicates she's had too much to drink again. She giggles and wraps loose arm around his shoulder, giving him a drunk kiss on his cheek. She’s just slightly taller than him, younger than she is now, but still older than him. Her pink scarf has been replaced with one made of alternating shades of blue.

There is a sharp tug in his chest. A name balances on the tip of his tongue, threatening to slip out of his mouth; Roxy.

In the next breath, the recognition is gone.

Dave is left with a lingering sense of nostalgia and a strange longing.

His mother gives him a questioning look and he almost tells her; _I knew you_.

\---

It happens again with his brother. Dave is thirteen and angrily running his tongue over the metal gear glinting on top the dull white of his teeth. Dirk, several years his senior, is back visiting from god knows where. It’s just the two of them, their mother and Rose having gone out to run errands earlier that morning.

The sunlight streams steadily through the slanted blinds, warming Dave’s pale skin. His brother sighs in content.

"Reminds me of Houston." he says offhandedly.

Dave freezes, that same sense of Deja Vu slowly trickling back into his chest through the spaces between his ribs.

He licks his cracked lips.

"W-what?"

Dirk chuckles, darting a hand out to ruffle his younger brother's hair.

And Dave _flinches_.

"Houston, bro." Dirk says, "Been livin' there for months, little man."

Fear shoots in a cold wave, down Dave’s spine.

And then his face is being seared by the heat of the southern sun, despite having never been to Texas in his entire life. He hears the sharp clatter of metal on metal, feels the sweat on his brow—feels the sharp sting of a sword nicking his shoulder. He can taste bitter iron spilling from his split lip. His heart contracts in fear. Dirk is standing across from him, only he's not Dirk. He’s older—more filled in—clad in a white polo and trucker hat, his sword lazily draped over his shoulder. Waiting. Dave’s vision grows fuzzy behind a pair of triangle shaped lenses that are both strangely foreign and horribly familiar at the same time.

And then just as fast as the first time, the memories fade. This time however, instead of a gentle yearning for the ghost of someone near to him, Dave is left with a heinous chill deep in his bones, and the taste of bile burning the back of his throat. For a heartbeat, he misses the shades, and the protection they provided.

Dirk, the real one—young, face void of beards and scars—clears his throat. Dave gives him a noncommittal shrug and hollow hum.

"Sure, man." he grunts, his own voice sounding false to his own ears.

His brother rolls his eyes and turns on the TV.

Dave feels uncomfortable in his own skin, and an unexplainable dread clings to him for the rest of the day.

\---

Unsurprisingly, Rose is next. Dave is sixteen and by this point has accepted he's is slightly losing it, if only a little. So he's not entirely shocked when on one quiet afternoon, Rose makes a snide comment in a sultry tone and suddenly an entirely different Rose is in front of him.

The room is different, purple and glowing with a soft ebbing blue-red light. To their right, a clock counts down. The two of them are swathed in that same deep purple. Rose’s eyes are red; she's crying but pretending that she isn't. Dave feels the familiar weight of aviators resting on the bridge of his nose and curve of his cheeks. His hand tightens—muscle memory kicking in—around the sword dangling in his loose grip.

Rose hiccups and Dave’s red irises flick up to her purple ones. She knows this must be done, but she's still afraid. She had told him once that being able to see often left her blinded with possibilities. But Dave can tell from the look on her face that this was their only option.

And deep down, he knows it too. He’s lived through the other timelines, all gone sour with doom. He knows that this is the only way. As the time counts backward down to zero, Dave takes in his sister and thinks, _I hope we meet again_.

When he snaps back to reality, his brain is muddle with memories of seers and knights. Slowly, his red eyes flick up to meet her purple ones once more.

Dave nearly crumbles when he fails to see the same recognition there. He wants to grab rose by her shoulders and shake her. _"You are a seer, why can't you see me?"._ He wishes he could scream.

She cocks a delicate, blonde eyebrow at him.

"Okay there, David?" she asks.

In another life—different yet somehow the same—Dave would've rolled his eyes. He would've told her to fuck off in a twangy accent, unfamiliar, yet fitting for his own timbre.

But Dave is not in that life. He is in Washington, sitting across from his twin sister, voice untainted by a drawl.

"Sure am, Rosalie." he replies automatically.

That catches her off guard. She looks at him for a moment, perplexed. Then she returns to her knitting, a light smirk playing on her black painted lips.

It's only hours later that Dave realizes, calling him David had been her thing. An inside joke amongst their family as a result of their mother choosing short, simple versions of names for her children. Dave realized that it had always been him at the butt of those particular name jokes; he's never called her Rosalie before.

At least, not in this life.

And then that bitter twinge of nostalgia returns. He misses her.

\---

It’s years before Dave’s next incident, as he's taken to calling them now. Every once in a while he will wake up in a cold sweat, the faint echo of foreign memories circling the back of his mind. He still thinks of the color navy and bottles of liquor, of shitty swords and hot gravel on the roof of an apartment. Of knights and seers and tumors and games. But as the years pass, Dave never remembers more than a flash here and there. As he enters college, he's all but dismissed them as a result of his childlike imagination.

And yet, a part of him--the part of him that frowns when his mother has a second glass of wine at dinner, that flinches when his brother moves toward him too quickly, that sometimes sees Rose with white hair and grey skin instead of platinum locks and a rosy complexion--refuses to let him forget entirely. But however persistent, that part has grown smaller as time passes and Dave grows. By the time he's finished high school, he's ready to move on and forget the strange not-memories.

\---

This new life, sans creepy visions, would've been his. but due to a last minute change in the enrollment process a mere week before move in day, Dave is informed that his roommate is no longer a dude from Australia of all places, last name Stanley, first name George. Instead he was going to be stuck with another Washington native, last name Egbert, first name John. As Dave’s eyes skimmed that name in the brief email he'd received that morning, his heart leapt from his chest and took residence in his throat.

That same, achingly familiar nostalgia starts to surround him.

Dave let his head drop to the cool wood of the desk below him with a thud. He let out a groan as a familiar feeling of discomfort slowly crept over him. At this point, Dave thought to himself, he might as well skip college altogether and become a psychic.

That night, he dreamt of the apocalypse and a purple moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey all, this is just a quick note to let u know that the second (technicaly first if ya squint) chapter will be up asap!


	2. In which leaving for college kind of sucks.

The morning of freshman move in day, Dave wakes up with his heart pounding hard against his sternum. Fleeting images of dog-eared demons slowly slip away as he becomes more cognizant. The harsh red numbers of his alarm clock tell him that it is currently four-thirty a.m. meaning he had been asleep for a grand total of twenty minutes. Grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes, Dave sighs. So much for being well rested. 

Since receiving the email with news of a new roommate, Dave’s dreams have begun growing more vivid again, and the uncomfortable crawl of not-quite familiarity has settled back in his chest. His unconscious mind has been haunted by dead versions of himself, a planet of gears and lava, and a cold, dreary meteor. 

The blond leaves his palms resting over his face for a moment before he peeks out from behind them, eyes scanning his empty, empty room. If he were more lucid, he would mumble a half poetic rap about the pale morning light on his bare walls. But it was too early for Dave Strider to function as a human being, let alone come up with semi-decent lyrics.

He hears pacing from the room next to him. Evidently, Rose was awake too. He knocks quietly on the wall to his left. A moment later she returns it. Despite himself, Dave smiles. They had played this game for as long as he could remember. The twins had been plagued with night terrors their whole lives, and as a result had trouble staying asleep. The knocking game had been their way of letting each other know they were all right.

The pacing stops and he can hear someone padding down the hallway. Slowly his door cracks open and Rose peeks around the corner. For a second, Dave swears sees her in a yellow dress instead of white pajamas.

Seeing that her brother is fully awake, Rose steps into his room, ever elegant--even at five in the morning. She perches at the end of his bed and when she reaches for his hand, Dave sits up and gives it to her. They sit in silence for a while, neither of them needing words to communicate. She catches his eye and gives him a warm smile.

“Are you ready?” 

Dave gently squeezes her hand. He can tell without asking that she’s more nervous than she’s letting on,

“Yeah, for the most part.” He says quietly, “How about you?”

She gives him her trademark smirk.

“I think so. But I’ll miss it here.”

Dave hums in response. The two of them are leaving on the same day, Dave heading to a university a little over six hours away, and Rose to its liberal arts sister college next door. While being far from home the two siblings would be relatively close.

They sit there, silently watching the sun slowly get brighter through the gaps in Dave’s curtains. They sit there, reminiscing on the past and pondering their futures.

\---

An hour passes before Dave’s alarm lets out a violent screech, reminding them that they need to be getting on the road. Rose slips off his bed, running a thin hand through his sandy blonde hair before she turns to go. He remains there for a moment, closing his eyes and allowing his nerves to settle. He gives his barren room one more glance before he too gets out of bed, grabs the few remaining boxes and his backpack, and shuts the door firmly behind him.

Dave meets his mother and sister at their car, manages to shove the last of his shit into the over-packed vehicle, before climbing into the back. Rose slides into the passenger seat and types the address into the GPS. They pass the hours by singing along to the top 40 hits blaring from the radio and taking turns telling stories. At one point, Rose begins to hum a gentle tune. Dave smirks a bit and starts adding his own quiet lyrics while their mother chuckles.  Once things settle down, Dave pops a single ear bud in and slumps down further into his seat. He begins glancing around in boredom and winds up catching his sisters eye in the rear-view mirror. They light up with amusement when he gives her a quick wink. She titters quietly to herself and Dave remembers a time when the same interaction occurred in a tall tower of a purple moon.

\---

Buildings, tall and over bearing, line either side of their car, send waves of goosebumps down Dave’s flesh. Unthinkingly, reaches to adjust non-existent sunglasses.  

His actions are interrupted by the sight of the university coming into view. The main campus is tucked between several skyscrapers, yet the grounds are filled with foliage. His mom pulls into the front of the welcome center and puts the car into park before turning around to face Dave.

She smiles and reaches a hand out to caress his face. Dave closes his eyes and sighs, the image of a blonde teen with a strange blue symbol on her shirt flashes in his mind.

\---

After getting checked in with administration, Rose and his mother offer to help him move in. In the end it takes them three trips up and down a flight of stairs to get everything into a room that Dave notes, is suspiciously lacking one Egbert, John. 

Once he has all of his mixing equipment shoved into one corner, and his camera bag gently set on the bare mattress, he turns to his family.

His mother’s eyes are shining, not with inebriation as part of him half expected, but with tears. She pulls him in for a tight hug, and when he hugs her back just as fiercely, Rose smirks. Dave flips her the bird.

Their mother pulls back a bit and looks into his eyes.

“I’m so proud of you,” she sniffles.

Dave rolls his eyes but can’t fight the pink that begins to tint his cheeks.

“Thanks, Ma.”

Rose coughs--dainty, yet passive aggressively--and reminds them that she has a college to get to as well. When Dave insist on coming to help, both women snicker and refuse. So he walks them to the car instead, exchanging one last goodbye. And just like that, he’s watching his mother and sister drive away; his eyes follow them as they grow smaller and smaller. He turns, and heads back to his new room. 

\---

It only takes Dave and hour to unpack and set up his half of the room, which is surprising, considering the vast collection of shit he had brought with him. His bed was shoved up against the wall of right side of the room. He elected to set up his laptop and other mixing equipment on the desk, deciding that he’d study elsewhere. He unboxed all of his clothes and tucked them away in the chest of drawers. Until he could find a dark room, Dave stowed all of his camera gear under the bed. 

Just as he finished forcing a fitted sheet over the mattress, his door bursts open and a voice--that Dave finds dorky and familiar, regardless of the fact that he'd never heard it before--announces a stranger has entered the room.

“Hey Dave!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> coming to you unbeta'ed from hell, michigan: the first official chapter of anamnesis! just a heads up, i'm from the midwest, and i've actually never been to washington in my entire life so bare with me. i appreciate your kudos and i will love you forever if you would let me know if you find any errors! and btw yes, this is a davekat fic; i just really love word building. this is truly going to be a slow burn fic so hang in there. i'm hoping to get karkat introduced (fingers crossed) by next chapter, but in all honesty, i'm kind of making this up as i go along.


	3. In which a roommate is gained and a blind girl has the wrong room.

In retrospect, meeting John didn’t go nearly as bad as it could have.

After getting over the initial shock of hearing a stranger say his name so casually, Dave forces himself to turn around and face his new roommate, John Egbert. He was met with mischievous blue eyes and dorky buck teeth. A small smile finds its way to the blonde’s lips.

“Hey man. You must me John?”

John nods, grinning.

“Yeah that’s me!”

Dave cautiously holds out a hand. He holds his breath as the brunette grasps it firmly.

He’s suddenly hit with a quick flash of his room back in Texas. Sitting on his bed is an opened box with a pair of aviators sitting next to hit. A thirteen year old Dave is sprawled on the floor, reading a hand written letter signed by none other than John Egbert. The letter indicated said glasses may have actually touched Ben Stiller’s weirdly gaunt face.

Outside of the memory, back in Washington, the real John Egbert clears his throat. Dave drops his hand like he was burned and coughs awkwardly. A pink tint settles on his cheeks as he tries to process why he suddenly feels so bare without a pair of shades on, and why he was so quick to call that bedroom in Texas his.

“Ah sorry.” He mumbles sheepishly.

John chuckles.

“No worries!”

Dave drops his eyes to the floor, suddenly very interested in his scuffed up converse. He silently curses himself for being so uncool. John shuffles and Dave looks back up to see him dropping a back pack on the other bed.

“It’s too bad you got here first! I was looking forward to setting up a couple of pranks before you got here.” John says, not even having the decency to look ashamed.

Dave groans, slapping a hand across his face to hide his grin.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t have even minded, bro. Just as long as you didn’t plan on pissing in a perfectly good apple juice bottle.”

John’s eyes light up. Dave’s smile grows as the other launches into a spiel about Little Monsters. He’d missed this.

\---

After calming Egbert down, Dave asks him if he needs any help moving his shit in. John accepts and leads him outside to a beat up station wagon that he proudly declares is his. While they unload, John explains that he only lives twenty minutes away from campus, so his dad decided he’d come visit after his son had more time to settle in.

In the end, they manage to carry everything John had brought in one trip, sweat beading on their foreheads and arms straining. When they get back to the room, a girl with shoulder length red hair is standing next to Dave’s bed, facing the wall.

“Nepeta is that you?” She asks, turning to face the general direction the two boys were standing in.

The first thing Dave notices are the bright red glasses resting on her face. The second is that she’s wearing matching crocks. He almost weeps.

The girl sniffs sharply and turns more pointedly to them.

“You’re not Nepeta,” She says, then follows with a loud, “Goddammit I’m in the wrong room again, aren’t I?”

Dave side eyes John, who looks like he’s just barely restraining laughter.

“Um,” He says dumbly.

Then the girl is on him. She sniffs his hair and suddenly Dave is almost knocked over with the force of new memories flooding his mind. He knows her, but she’s different that he remembers. Before, her hair was black. She had grey skin and sharp claws and teeth. Her eyes were completely red behind her glasses and she had, _horns?_

Terezi.

He’s brought to the present, when she licks his face.

“Ew TZ, what the fuck?”

The exclamation is out of his mouth before he can stop himself. She pulls back to examine him. He swears her mouth still manages to look like a question mark, which he has yet to figure how that’s actually possibly. Something akin to recognition flashes across her face.

She throws her head back and lets out a cackle that sounds significantly less menacing coming from human vocal cords. Dave fights a smile off his face. John coughs.

“So uh, you two know each other?” He asks.

“Probably not.” She says at the same time Dave mutters, “Nah.”

John looks like he’s at a loss for words. Terezi shrugs.

“Don’t blame me. I’m blind.” She grins wickedly as she peers over her glasses, looking at them with eerily white eyes.

“Oh, um. O-okay.” John stutters out.

Terezi winks before heading out the door. A moment passes before she pokes her head back in.

“Just in case you boys wanted to know, I’m right next door. Room 413.”

And then she’s gone. John stares at him. Dave shrugs.

\---

After getting over the whirlwind of a person that is Terezi Pyrope—Dave frowns when the last name supplies itself, despite her never actually mentioning her identity—he and John have managed to set up John’s TV and Dave’s consoles. They were currently playing an intense game of Mario Kart that involved both insults and mentions of fucking each other’s mothers, as well as pulling dirty moves such as throwing red shells and banana peels. John’s suitcase lays on his bed, untouched and forgotten.

Occasionally, Dave’s thoughts drift to the fragmented memories scattered throughout his mind. The more he thinks about it, the more his head hurts. He’s accepted two things at this point. The first is that he’s starting to remember a really fucked up past life. The second is that he’s absolutely shithive maggots.  A frown tugs on his lips at the thought of that particular insult.

His ponderings are interrupted by John whooping victoriously as he shoves Dave’s shoulder. The latter watches in despair as his character drifts off the edge of rainbow road. He lets his controller fall from his grasp as he dramatically collapses to the floor in shame. John is giggling and doing a complicated victory dance that Dave can’t help laugh at.

Once they calm down (see: once John stops gloating enough for Dave’s ego to heal), they argue over what they want to do for dinner. Eventually they settle on Chinese and John pulls up a menu while Dave goes to grab his wallet.

\---

That night, Dave lies in his new bed staring at the ceiling, content and full of chicken lo mein. Many thoughts circle through his exhausted mind, begging to be examined under a careful eye. But in the end, fatigue wins him over, and pale eyelids slowly slide over candy-red eyes. He can hear John snoring softly across the room as he drifts off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay honestly i still don't know where i'm going with this so sorry for the lack of sloppy davekat make outs. or davekat in general, for that matter. i think i know the basics of what i want to happen next, but who knows where we'll end up. also, yes im aware that the little monsters joke is so over done but fite me i'll stop writing about it when i'm dead.


	4. In which a much needed conversation occurs.

That night, Dave dreams.

\---

_You’re kneeling next to him. There’s blood on the ground beneath your feet. Fuck, where wasn’t there blood. Teal texts scrolls across your line of sight and you grit your teeth. Why wouldn’t she leave you alone?_

_In front of you Bro lies dead, sword firmly stuck through the middle of his chest. You want to vomit. Part of you waits for him to sit up and scare the living shit out of you. But this isn’t like the numerous other times he’d take pleasure from your terror. He was dead._

_You’re not sure you’d ever seen him so still in your life._

_Terezi asks if you loved him._

_You tell her no._

_You try to convince yourself you said it ironically. You can’t. Your eyes are glued to the sharp blade protruding from his sternum. Without really thinking you decide to break it. Terezi’s displeasure is ignored as you stand up and take a few steps back in preparation._

_In the next moment you’re sailing through the air, muscles braced. Your foot makes contact with the blade. Instead of breaking, it launches you backwards. You barely notice the pain as your face collides with the ground._

_Turning on to your back, you stare up at the sky with eyes red like blood and try to pretend there aren’t tears slipping down the sides of your face and into your hair._

\---

Dave sits up with violent gasp, back rigid as if he’d been frozen in place. His thoughts swim as he tries to process what had just happened. Pale moon light streams in through the window and he can just make out the sleeping form of John in the bed across from his. Dave exhales and leans back against the headboard. He forces his body to un-tense as he mentally prepares himself to examine his dream. If he could even call it that anymore. He knows it was a memory. He just isn’t quite sure how that was possible.

The blond tucks his legs to his chest and sighs, resigning himself to another sleepless night. He opens his eyes and stares at the dark room, trying to gather his thoughts. He decides to start with what he knows about this life. He makes a mental list.

                -My name is Dave Strider.

                -I have a twin sister, Rose Lalonde.

                -Our mother gave me my absentee father’s last name.

                -I am eighteen years old. I turn nineteen on December 3rd.

                - ~~I’m starting to get flashes of my past life.~~

                -I’ve always had these flashes, but they’ve gotten more intense as I’ve started college.

Dave frowns, part of him wondering why now. The memories weren’t new to him; he’d remembered his mother—Roxy—when he was ten. So why were they getting worse now? He bites his lower lip as he ponders that. Obviously new people were a factor, John and Terezi being prime examples. Up until this point the only people he had remembered were his family. His head starts to throb.

As much as he tries, Dave can’t put together all the jagged memories buzzing painfully around his skull. He remembers playing a game. He remembers going on a suicide mission to destroy the tumor with Rose. He remembers talking with someone on pesterchum called ghostyTrickerster who he later learned was named John. He remembers meeting his mother as a teenager clothed head to toe in blue, and living with an older version of Dirk that liked to put shitty swords in the refrigerator. He remembers Terezi, a troll with razor sharp teeth and wit to match.

He remembers dying. He remembers that the most. He remembers different versions of himself being slaughtered across different timelines. He remembers heat and gears and swords and blood. He remembers so much blood.

He knows there’s more to it than a handful of people and some PTSD nightmare fuel, but try as he might, Dave can’t remember. He feels culpable, a hot pool of guilt begins to coil in his chest. He has a sinking feeling for a moment that he’s forgotten one thing in particular that he swore he never would.

As the sun begins to creep over the horizon, Dave falls into a fitful sleep, weariness finally beating his anxiety into submission, allowing him to drift from consciousness.

\---

The next morning, Dave is woken up by someone heavily throwing themselves down on his bed. A maniacal cackle fills the air as he feebly swats at the assailant. He groans and pulls a pillow over his head.

“Oh my fucking god, Terezi.”

She freezes, the drops her head next to his on the mattress.

“You know coolkid, I don’t ever recall giving you my name.”

The soft whisper of her breath on the side of his face sends chills down his spine.

“Yea uh, sorry. For um, that.”

She punches his shoulder and snickers.

From across the room he can hear John let out an uncomfortable laugh.

“Sorry Dave,” He says, “I tried to stop her.”

After several minutes of vaguely awkward banter, Dave convinces Terezi to get off his bed so he can get dressed. She only moves after making the two boys swear they’ll come over to her room and meet her roommate. Begrudgingly, they agree.

It takes Dave ten minutes to get himself ready, three of them spent actually changing and the other seven dedicated to staring at his own dark under-eye circles in the mirror. As they go to leave, Dave digs through his backpack and grabs a pair of sunglasses, smoothly sliding them on with the intent to hide the fact he hadn’t gotten much sleep. John quirks an eye brow at his new accessory and Dave pointedly ignores him.

Terezi leads them through their door and to the one immediately to the left of it, barging in without knocking. She gestures at a petit girl with cropped brown hair lounging on one of the beds—pointing a few feet to the side of where she was actually sitting—and introduces her as Nepeta Leijon.

Meeting her roommate wasn’t nearly as bad as Dave though it would be, and he finds himself enjoying how Nepeta speaks almost as if she were roll-playing. He watches in amusement as John cringes with every offhanded cat pun she manages to slip into the casual conversation.

For once he feels strangely at ease as memories surface to the front of his mind. He recalls Terezi telling him about a cute little cat troll she would RP with over trollian. He remembers finding out she was murdered, but he can’t place who told him. Other than in passing, it seems Dave never knew her.

The human Nepeta brushes past his leg as she goes to make some tea—or as she had called it “cha-meow-mile”—and suddenly Dave is scorched by the image of a flashing green and orange monstrosity with wings. They appeared to be a bizarre combination of himself and Nepeta. Except Dave doesn’t recall being a bird-cat-troll combination in any of his lives.

Across the room, Terezi is staring at him with blank eyes like she knows he’s remembering all this. He knows she’s blind, and that she always has been, but for a moment it feels like she’s looking at him and _sees_ what he’s thinking. That thought sends an icy jet across his body as the title _Seer of Mind_ flashes through his mind.

Dave almost sobs. The seer grins wickedly.

“I’m gonna grab some air or something.” He announces, absconding like it’s his job.

As the door shuts behind him he can hear John saying he should go check on him, and then Terezi cackling and telling him to calm the fuck down and that she would handle it.

The door reopens moments later and she’s standing in front of Dave, smirking in a way that’s so familiar it causes him physical pain.

“Terezi,” He starts, but she cuts him off.

“Cool it, Dave.” She’s smiling now.

“I-I remember you.” He stutters.

“Big deal, who wouldn’t remember this fine teal rump.”

They’re both grinning.

“What about the others?” She asks, “What about Rose and Jade? Obviously you’ve found John but,”

“Jade?” Dave interrupts.

“I,” He starts, “I’ve found Rose, and mom—Roxy, and Dirk too. But I only remember little bits. I’ve been getting more since meeting you and John yesterday, but…”

He lets the sentence trail off.

Dave glances at Terezi and she looks disappointed. He wants to take it back. He would cram the words right back down his throat if it stopped her from looking so broken.

“Hey, that’s fine coolkid. I was actually surprised that damaged brain of yours was able to remember me at all.” She jokes, ignoring the slight crack in her voice.

Dave shakes his head.

“What about you, who have you found?” He asks hurriedly.

A tiny smile plays at her lips.

“Well you, obviously, and windy boy. But before that Nepeta, John’s grandmother Jane, and a handful of other trolls.”

Dave can’t think of anything to say in response, his usual tendency for rambling curbed by the weight of the situation. Terezi remains silent. A question pops into his head and he blurts it out before he has the chance to think about it.

“How long have you been able to remember?”

She stills. Her voice is quiet and somber as she answers.

“Since I was six sweeps—” she stops, “Since I was thirteen. The same year I went blind.”

Dave feels like he’s being smothered. She continues.

“It was an accident. I woke up in the hospital with the worst headache I’d had my entire life. My eyes felt raw. When I realized I couldn’t see, the memories hit me like a fucked up wave of emotional trauma.”

Terezi pauses to take a breath, like the story had clawed its way from her lips, painful and unbidden. When she doesn’t continue, Dave asks her one last question.

“Does anyone else remember?”

Her miserable grimace tells him more than words ever could. He pretends his chest doesn’t feel like it was being crushed as he clears his throat.

“Well. At least we have each other.”  

She lets out a broken chuckle as she quickly brushes away tears. Dave tries not to let the fact that they aren’t teal bother him.

\---

When they slip back into Terezi’s room John is sitting on the floor next to Nepeta, steaming cup of what Dave assumes to be tea clutched in both hands. Faint meows can be heard coming from the laptop in front of them. John gives him a suggestive look. Dave rolls his eyes, freezing for a moment when he realizes it went unnoticed behind tinted lenses.

\---

The two boys escape back to their room with promises to come visit again. They elect to have a repeat of the day before, ordering two whole pizzas each and taking turns choosing movies. Dave nearly has an aneurysm when John unironically suggests they watch Con Air.

For a moment, Dave feels like he’s thirteen, streaming movies and mocking his best bro. But the subtle looks John sends him all night leave him feeling unsettled. He can tell the brunette is probably wondering what his deal is. Dave doesn’t know where he’d even begin to explain.

So he doesn’t. He ignores John’s not-so-sneaky glances and pretends everything is fine.

\---

He manages to keep pretending as he starts college. The weeks pass and he spends time hanging out with John and Terezi. His classes are going well and he’s even managed to get a job working at the local museum. September passes with October right on its heels. Its then that everything starts to go to shit again. And it begins with one Rose Lalonde.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyyy here we go. more terezi. my gay heart is singing. also btw most of this story is unbeta'd, so sorry if i've fucked anything up. also speaking of betas, i'm desperate. if yr willing to quickly check over my work from time to time, hmu and i'll love you forever. and to everyone leaving comments and kudos, thank you i owe u my life,,


	5. In which Dave is invited to a party.

The subtle change from the end of summer to the beginning of fall means that work has been slow. Which is both a curse and a blessing. 

When Dave had first applied for the job opening at the local museum, he wasn’t really sure what he’d end up doing. He was kind of disappointed at first when he’d ended up at the information desk, and while it wasn’t terrible, he found it hard to enjoy. When he had first started, the museum was always packed, filled with elementary school classes and families on weekend vacations. There would be so many people that Dave would sometimes feel overwhelmed to the point of nausea. But with the change of season, the influx of museum patrons had dwindled—the most common guests being locals. The information desk began to feel like a deserted island. To pass the time Dave fiddled with the maps, attempting to build houses with them or folding them into origami. He’d draw occasional doodles on sticky notes and stick them on the underside of the desk for whoever was working the next shift. Dave would, on occasion, even slip low enough into boredom that he’d roll up a pamphlet and use it as a spyglass, pretending that he was a pirate and that the oh-so-dull information desk was a crow’s nest.

When he wasn’t directing people to different parts of the museum, or fooling around, he was tasked with restocking the map display.  But there was only so many times one could reorganize pamphlets in alphabetical order before losing some degree of sanity. In other words, Dave was so bored he could cry.

When he’s sure that no one in the immediate surroundings looked lost, he sneaks off to the bathroom. As he goes to wash his hands, Dave catches his appearance in the mirror and almost frowns. In the past month of college, his aviators had essentially become a part of his face. John had given him strange looks at first but eventually accepted it. Terezi had just snorted and punched him in the shoulder. The worst part was he couldn’t even say he was wearing them for irony’s sake any more. Since meeting Terezi, he had started to remember more about himself. He’d remembered wearing them as a defense mechanism. And despite growing up in a different life, one where he didn’t need shades to hide behind, Dave felt bare without them.

Sighing, he takes one last glance in the mirror, straightens the name tag that reads “David”—a  mistake that he’d tried numerous times to get fixed, but to no avail—and headed out of the restroom. As he approaches his desk he sees a woman reading through the pamphlets and, to Dave’s dismay, putting them back in the wrong order. He grits his teeth.

“Excuse me ma’am, can I—”

The woman turns around and flashes a smirk with black painted lips.

“Hello,” Rose calls, eyes scanning his face and landing on the shades.

Her next statement seems to die on her lips.

Dave quirks an eyebrow. Rose frowns.

“Ah, excuse me. For a moment, I thought,”

She shakes her head. Dave looks expectantly. Did she remember?

“Never mind, it isn’t important.”

“But—” Dave starts.

“Not now, David.”

He grimaces. Rose rolls her eyes and pulls her brother into a quick hug.

“What are you doing here?” Dave finds himself asking after she releases him, filing her strange behavior away in the back of his mind.

“I’ve come to kidnap you of course.”

Dave stares. Rose rolls her eyes again. He thinks they might fall out of her skull if she keeps it up.

“Your lunch break in in five minutes, brother dear. And I plan on treating you to some tea.”

She pats him on the shoulder. Dave stifles a groan.

“I’m guessing I don’t have a choice, do I?”

She answers with a coy smile as she turns and goes back to messing up Dave’s perfectly organized rack of maps. He sighs. He had a feeling it was going to be a long day.

\---

After Dave clocks out for his lunch break and hangs his vest and name tag in the back room, he heads out to the front of the museum, where Rose stands with hands casually tucked inside her coat pockets. Dave offers out his arm and she accepts. They set off, Rose more so dragging Dave along than walking beside him. They end up outside a tiny coffee shop that Dave finds painfully indie. Rose leaves her brother and their coats to go grab something for them to drink.

Dave finds his eyes wandering around the cozy little shop, taking in the walls-turned-bookshelves and the numerous rugs that cover the hardwood floors. He was right, it screamed hipster. His mind drifted to why Rose might have dragged him here, and the only thing he could settle on was that she planned to scold him. He just wasn’t sure what he’d done.

His scanning of the room is interrupted by Rose carefully setting a hot mug of what smelled like oolong on to the table in front of him. She sits herself opposite of him with her own drink and clears her throat. Dave prepares himself for a lecture.

Instead, to his surprise, she invites him to a party.

“I’m having a party,” She announces.

Dave rolls his eyes as she continues.

“And I’d be very pleased if you’d come. You’re more than welcome to bring some friends along, I’m sure Kanaya won’t mind.”

Dave stills. In the month or so they’d been in school, Dave had humored his sister for  _ hours _ , listening to her fawn over her roommate. In all that time, she had never mentioned her name. The moment Rose utters  _ Kanaya _ , Dave sees a flash of a green-blooded troll, elegant and powerful. He sees her standing close to his sister, arm wrapped around her waist lovingly. But just as soon as it came, the image is gone, fleeting faster than most usually did. He lets out a sigh. 

Rose mistakes his sigh as one of protest and she chides him. She tells him that the invitation was merely a formality, and reminds him that if she doesn’t see him in the flesh tomorrow night, she knows where he lives. Dave chuckles. He agrees, pretending that he’s upset he lost the fight, but both of them know he’s glad he did.

\---

They chat for a while, discussing classes and friends. Rose brings up John with a knowing smirk.

“You know it isn’t like that!” Dave exclaims.

Rose raises an eyebrow.

“Do I know that?”

“Yeah, you do. He’s my best bro and you know it. Just because I’m queer doesn’t mean I’m immediately attracted to my same sex roommate. You should know that, what with rooming with what’s-her-face.”

Rose’s face flushes. It’s Dave’s turn to smirk.

“How’s that going for you?”

She waves a manicured hand.

“While I do love our banter, brother dear, isn’t it time for you to be heading back to work?”

Dave glances at his watch and curses under his breath when he realizes he’ll have to run to make it back on time. 

“Oh, you evil woman.” He grumbles.

He stands to leave, dropping a quick peck on the top of his sister’s head before dashing out the door.

\---

Dave makes it to work--chest heaving and back slick with sweat--with one minute to spare. He begrudgingly grabs his stuff and heads back to his spot at the information desk, dragging his feet every step of the way. Once he’s settled in, he whips out his phone and sends a series of texts. One to Rose, thanking her for lunch and promising he’ll be seeing her tomorrow night. Then another to a group chat consisting of Nepeta and John, inviting them as well and giving Nepeta a heads up to pass the word on to TZ the next time she sees her.

After he’s done he checks the time and then collapses onto the counter of the desk with a suffering groan. Only four more hours to go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, i'm back!! sorry that took so long :p junior year really just kicked my ass and i had to take a break from writing. but here i am!!!


End file.
